


моя последняя любовь

by nomequedamas



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 19:34:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10623687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomequedamas/pseuds/nomequedamas
Summary: with inspiration from Fyodor Tyutchev's poem "My Last Love"





	

_ О, как на склоне наших лет _

_ O, how in the ending years _

_ Нежней мы любим и суеверней... _

_ Is love more tender and superstitious... _

_ Сияй, сияй, прощальный свет _

_ O shine! O shine, my parting rays _

_ Любви последней, зари вечерней! _

_ Of the evening sun, of the last heart wishes!  _

 

McCoy’s mother always told him when he was in love, he’d know. 

 

He thought he knew. It was Jocelyn, wasn't it? That had fallen apart quickly. What was once love at first sight now became the bane of his existence. But only as he sat here, wrapping a bandage around his crewmate’s bicep, did he truly understand what his mother meant. 

 

Love wasn't something you fell headfirst into like he did with Jocelyn, it was gradual, it snuck up on you. It slowly crawls into bed with you and you realize it's there only when you wake up embracing it. 

 

As he taped the bandage in place, he looked up and met the eye of the ensign. Chekov was his name. He and Chekov knew each other, although never intimately nor extensively. They played chess games, they talked, but it wasn't until right at this very moment did he realize that Cupid had struck him with an arrow. 

 

What a fool he’d been, he must've been an easy target to aim for. A southern gentleman, a hopeless (or hopeful?) romantic. It was the small things Pavel did that made his heart race. How he'd bite his knuckle when he was nervous, the way his brow furrowed when he concentrated. The small inquisitive arch of his eyebrow when McCoy engaged him in conversation. Certainly, there were little nuances about other people too, but those people weren't Chekov, so they didn't matter much. 

 

“Thank you, Doctor,” Chekov’s accented voice broke the silence that was growing between them. Leonard snapped out of his daze and pushed the thoughts out of his head. 

 

“Yes,” He cleared his throat,” You will need to come back in so I can keep cleaning and redressing it. Don't lift anything over twenty pounds. No extreme stress. Got it?” 

 

“Yes, Doctor.” The way Chekov’s Russian accent twisted the ‘c’ into a hard ‘k’ was something Leonard would never get used to. Every time he heard it, it was like someone blowing hot air onto his icy heart. A few more times and he may melt. 

 

_ Полнеба обхватила тень, _

_ The darkness cuts half of the sky, _

_ Лишь там, на западе, бродит сиянье, – _

_ And only the West has the roving glow, _

_ Помедли, помедли, вечерний день, _

_ O time of evening, do not fly, _

_ Продлись, продлись, очарованье. _

_ Enchantment, be prolonged and slow.  _

 

The first night they knew each other intimately was a jarring experience. In the beginning, it was quick and dirty, but as the night progressed, so did they, slowing into a rhythm only soulmates could reach. Near the end, instead of feeling tired, he felt refreshed. 

 

His love for Chekov, now Pavel was beautiful, it was sticky and sweet. It dripped down his thighs as Leonard graced him with his lips and tongue. Kissing him was nearest to drinking from a holy font, the water blessed with new life. As he held him in his arms, he felt as though he was holding a masterpiece. 

 

“Leonard,” Pavel began, voice rough from overuse. 

 

“Pavel,” He replied, nosing his way closer into the crook of Pavel’s neck. 

 

“This may be a little bit premature of me, but ah…” Leonard could feel the blush forming on his lover’s skin. “I love you.” 

 

The entire ship could have jumped into red alert, and Leonard would've been none the wiser, he was so encapsulated by Pavel’s words. 

 

It was a beautiful thing, to be loved, and Leonard was so honored to be able to experience it. And by Pavel, as well. The achievement of reaching such exclusive status was not lost on him, and he had a hard time fighting the smile that crept up onto his lips. 

 

“I love you, too.” 

 

With that, Pavel pulled Leonard away from him and stared him in the face. He shone with pure ebullience, and if Leonard didn't know any better, he would've wondered if he was the son of a god. His face was so chiseled, so beautifully molded, that there was nothing less than perfection. Even the shadow cast upon his face did nothing except flatter his features. 

 

_ Пускай скудеет в жилах кровь, _

_ Let blood in veins has a thinner staff,  _

_ Но в сердце не скудеет нежность… _

_ But a heart preserves the gentle passion… _

 

Saint Petersburg was snowy, even in April. Leonard hated the cold, but now he didn't seem to mind. Not with warm sunlight by his side.

 

It was a small service, only the closest of friends attending, an Orthodox priest presiding over it. 

 

Light shone in from the stained glass windows near the ceiling, set awash Pavel's features in blues and reds and golds. Leonard took it all back: Pavel looked the most beautiful  _ right now.  _

 

He didn't know much Russian at all, but when the priest said  _ “И вы?”  _ Leonard replied, in his best Russian accent, 

 

“Я делаю.” 

 

The whole room saw the tears form in Pavel’s eyes, saw them roll silently down his cheeks. He still shone with happiness, in fact; more so than before. He didn't even wait for the priest to pronounce them and before Leonard knew it, he was being kissed by the love of his life. 

 

“Горько!” Their friends called, cheering. 

 

Leonard had learned another phrase in Russian, right when they had first begun to date, and he figured now was as good a time as any to share his knowledge. 

 

“Я полюбил тебя с первого взгляда.” 

 

Pavel’s eyes widened, and he looked up at Leonard. Yes, so he had recognized it. Those few tender words, that drew more tears out of his brown eyes. 

 

_ “I fell in love with you at first sight.” _

 

_ О ты, последняя любовь! _

_ O you, my last and tender love! _

_ Ты и блаженство, и безнадежность. _

_ You are my bliss and desperation.  _


End file.
